An Ode to Bootstrap, Big Seagulls, and Crab Shells
by DemonicPelicans
Summary: A loopy look at what could have happened to Jack the first time he was stranded on that god foresaken spit of land. PG13 for language. CHAPTER 3 NOW UP!
1. Day One: Ode to Bootstrap

Disclaimer: I do NOT own anything that has to do with Pirates of the Caribbean. The evil mouse has it all. Stupid mouse (I didn't actually say that, by the way). Anyways, it's not my fault I'm obsessed about PotC. I just like to make up bad fan fictions. However, if you happen to read through this, just review it anyway, it will make my day. Plus, I will dedicate a chapter to you! YAY!

Claimer: Although the mouse owns everything PotC, I DO own this plot. So it is mine. If you (for some really completely stupid reason) want to make random references to it, just ask. I'll probably say yes anyways. BY THEY WAY, I love the one called Johnny Depp!

And know... without further abdue... or maybe just a little... Chapter 1!

"Well, at least Barbossa and _his_ _mates_ chose a _pretty lil' godforsaken spit 'o land _to dump me on after committing a _TAD BIT O' MUTINY_!" Jack bellowed at the top of his lungs, tripping over the various rocks and bits of seaweed getting in the way of his feet. He didn't care if they heard him or not, those backstabbing scoundrels, they were almost past the horizon, sailing off with _his_ ship, _his_ treasures, _his_ rum... _not to mention that really nice hat Bootstrap had found for him..._ He fell back on the warm sands, watching out for one of those really nasty rocks, mind you, and gazed out at the now clear horizon._ Well, there goes the last bit o' freedom I be gettin' my hands on... for a while. No more warm nights in me cabin, not a bit of rum, no more cool mornings at the wheel o' the Black Pearl... Barbossa must be sitting in there at this very moment messin' with my effects, ordering around my men, playing with that handy compass... the compass. _"The compass... the compass! THE COMPASS! THAT SON O' A BITCH BARBOSSA HAS MY COMPASS!" _Not to mention the really nice hat, and the rum... _"THAT GOLD IS MINE, BARBOSSA!" He hadn't realized that he had jumped up after his most recent outburst, until some startled crabs from underneath those jagged rocks, looked up at the crazy man that was talking to himself, and began pinching at his wet, calloused feet. Jack was too angry, soaked, exasperated, and dazed to really care. _At least these lil' crabs can hear me,_ he thought sarcastically. _Wait one second... crabs... crabs... crabs... aren't those ones good for sumthin? Crabs... FOOD! _He dropped to his knees, forgetting the stupid rocks, and grabbed at where he had seen those tiny, annoying, good for nothing crabs Only one especially minuscule one remained. _Just my luck, one itsy bitsy crab, just for me onceys to eat. I'm almost touched. _ "Well, I better keep you fresh..." He stuck the crab under that useful little pouch on his hand, and set out to find a tad of dry wood.

Walking around the island didn't take up so much time. After a good hearty ten minute walk, he stumbled across his own footprints. Thank god, wherever he was at the moment, for the coconut trees. The bark was brutal, more stubborn than Anamaria... but would burn like the madness in Barbossa's eyes; his very sick, evil, MUTINESS, not to mention yellowing eyes. _Well, now I just got to get the fire lit... shouldn't be too hard, after all, I am thee Captain Jack Sparrow... without a boat... on a remote spit of land... not a bit of sanity concerning what I'm doing..._ Picking up the pieces of flint he gathered, he sank back into his original plot of sand, grinding at twigs as if someone out there would give him credit for just trying, and a fire would magically alight. However, the powers that be didn't like him that much. The sun was setting, the island cooling down, and there was no fire to keep him warm. _These tree bits won't even give me a bloody spark! _Suddenly, out of nowhere, a tiny light... barely catching his eye at first, then growing... growing... _What was that?_ Too awestruck by the heavenly light, Jack didn't realize the very part of shirt that ran up his right arm was half engulfed in flames, until a sharp stinging pain shot up his side, as then he launched himself into the sand, desperately trying to suffocate the flames. _This isn't working... this isn't working... the BLOODY OCEAN! Now why didn't I think of this a mere minute ago...?_ He thought as he jumped to his feet and sprinted towards the deep blue ocean, diving in without a moment's hesitation.

He swam through the shallow, mild Caribbean waters long after his shirt was snuffed out. The water against his skin, that cool tingle sent refreshing chills down his spine. He thought about his "current situation" in a different perspective. _What if I wasn't such a great captain after all? Maybe it wasn't just one of Barbossa's jump-on-the-bandwagon plans? Wouldn't one of the crew told me? Wouldn't Bootstrap have said something? Ol' Bootstrap-Bill, he might not have a better fate than I, considering his fondness of his now ex-captain. I owe him so much... Hopefully he'll watch out for himself long enough to get the money he needs and get the hell off the Black Pearl. Maybe even find his way back to his beautiful wife... didn't he even have a young lad now? _Jack waded back to shore, sopping wet clothes plastered to his chilled skin, and again collapsed on that rather homey section of sand. Drifting off to unconsciousness, partially because he was extremely tired and partially because he felt tremendously deprived of water, he really wished he had that hat with him. If he did, he would have taken it off, and placed it in front of his heart, as a last salute to Bootstrap Bill Turner.


	2. Morning of Day Two: An Evil Bird

Disclaimer: I do NOT own anything that has to do with Pirates of the Caribbean. The evil mouse has it all. Stupid mouse (I didn't actually say that, by the way). Anyways, it's not my fault I'm obsessed about PotC. I just like to make up bad fan fictions. However, if you happen to read through this, just review it anyway, it will make my day. Plus, I will dedicate a chapter to you! YAY!

Claimer: Although the mouse owns everything PotC, I DO own this plot. So it is mine. If you (for some really completely stupid reason) want to make random references to it, just ask. I'll probably say yes anyways. BY THEY WAY, I love the one called Johnny Depp!

Note: _Italics are Jack's thoughts, _"Normal fonts in parenthesis are what Jack says out loud", and regular writing is my narration.

By the way, many thanks to **Geheimnis** for reviewing chapter one; I promise not to kill jack, after all, how would he appear in the movie?

Sorry about taking so long to complete it... I have stupid teachers. Well, onto yet another chapter, number two in fact!

The hot Caribbean sun, high in the morning's sky, glared through Jack's eyelids, as then he twisted over in a desperate, half-asleep attempt to block the sun. Instead, he received a mouthful of sand. "...Come now, Anamaria, give ol' Jack another five minutes...no, no... wont' be late for the Pearl... Barbossa will wait..." Jack half mumbled to the rock across from his head. _Barbossa wouldn't wait, would he...?_ Jack thought. _Not a bloody second. _Moaning, he flipped to his other side, begging for just another minute of sleep. Not thirty second later, he felt something just touch the edge of his double braided goatee. Whatever it was, it inched up his braid, crawling onto his chin... Something to the extent of "Damn horseflies!" a swatting noise, and then a crunch could be heard, slightly echoing through the palm trees. "Fine, you win... I'm up," Jack mumbled to the dead horsefly. _'Wonder what that other sound was..._ Checking his palm, he realized that the crunch hadn't in fact been the fly, but the small crab he had desperately captured yesterday. _And just the time to give me' self a lil' snack._ Since the whole fire plan didn't work too thoroughly, Jack decided just to lay the crab on a sun-heated rock, you know, to cook things up a little bit.

Walking another lap around the island, Jack finally spotted a couple of small cocoanuts. "Finally, something does strive with life on this godforsaken island." Without that cocoanut juice... milk... stuff, Jack would surly be buzzards food. Thank God that there were no buzzards on the island, what a pitiful way to end your life that would be. _Death by buzzards... _Jack smirked at the idea. _Can't let any dirty birds that don't exist get to yer head, Jack._ And that's when he saw it. The bird was covered in lengthy white feathers, with an odd orange colored beak. Its wingspan must have been four and a half feet long. Its beady black eyes glared down at Jack as it hovered overhead, landing on a palm branch some twenty feet up. From that point on, Jack knew that the bird must be evil. He also knew it would be tasty. _Well, tastier than some dead crab... better get back to that one._ After the moment Jack gathered his four cocoanuts, the bird took off. In the direction of the crab. "NO!" Jack hollered as he dropped all four cocoanuts and sped off after the bird. _The bird will not get me last bit of food!_ As Jack sprinted towards the rock he left the crab on, the bird began to swoop down, bit by bit, until it was about at the height of his head. Jack was about 10 feet behind it, and he was determined to catch that bird with every ounce of his will power. Apparently, the bird had more will power than Jack. "YOU DAMN OVERSIZED SCAVENGER OF A BIRD!" He yelled with a winded tone in his voice. With a simple swoop and grasp, Jack knew he was going to starve to death. With a vengeance.

_That bird is going to die a long painful death..._ thought Jack, as he wondered through the razor grass in search of twigs or sticks. _I'm going to spear that bird through its beady lil' eyes and it 'ill pop out the other end. _Clearly, Jack, being as dehydrated as he was, had no intention of popping a bird's eyeballs out. He didn't think he could even if he wanted to. He just needed an excuse to get up and hobble back and forth through the palms on the island. Then he saw it... again. The huge bird was flying overhead._ You might as well chase the bird, Jack. You've got nothing saner to do. _So it was on. The bird was winning, but not for long... Jack was speeding, just the adrenaline from realizing he was moving faster then he had in the past two days amazed him. Looking back, he realized the bird was slowing down. "Come on, bird, too afraid you'll be beat by Captain Jack Spar-" A large "clunk" slightly echoed off the other palm trees. Jack slid down to the ground, knocked unconscious, head resting on a lump of sand. Really, those palm trees should watch where they are going.

For the second time today, Jack woke up from an uncomfortable sleep with a mouthful of salty sand lining his throat. _If this happ'ns one more time, I'll surly get used to the taste._ He flipped over his sore head, revealing a rather nasty bump on the right side of his temple. _Even more fun, the bird is still here._ Although Jack was at this point, starting to notice various dancing animals here and there, he was indeed correct of the bird. It circled him, as if a vulture circled it's dying prey before ripping it's flash apart and feasting upon it's brains. _What a flattering thought. _All of a sudden, Jack felt the need to get up... for some odd reason. Wearily brushing sand of of his dirtied clothes, he observed the bird. He had no idea as what it could be, as he only knew of three different birds; vultures, seagulls, and of course, sparrows. This particular feather animal acted as if a vulture, but had the cunning of a sparrow, not to mention the annoying aspect if a gull. Perhaps, it was a seavultrow, or a sparturegull. A vulsearrow, maybe? Jack then pondered a more important question, _why am I still sitting here when the gullrowture is flying off? I must continue my completely pointless frolic across the island in attempt to catch a bird that I will never be able to lay me hands on. _And he was off, into the bright direction of the sun, not knowing by the end of the day, Jack would have a new friend. A quite feathery one, actually.


	3. MidDay Two: Thoughts

Disclaimer: I do NOT own anything that has to do with Pirates of the Caribbean. The evil mouse has it all. Stupid mouse (I didn't actually say that, by the way). Anyways, it's not my fault I'm obsessed about PotC. I just like to make up bad fan fictions. However, if you happen to read through this, just review it anyway, it will make my day. Plus, I will dedicate a chapter to you! YAY!

Claimer: Although the mouse owns everything PotC, I DO own this plot. So it is mine. If you (for some really completely stupid reason) want to make random references to it, just ask. I'll probably say yes anyways. BY THEY WAY, I love the one called Johnny Depp!

Note: _Italics are Jack's thoughts, _"Normal fonts in parenthesis are what Jack/other characters say out loud", and regular writing is my narration.

Well... here goes nothing... chapter three is officially..... OFFICIALLY up!

The whole "chasing of the bird" idea was starting to get old, not to mention Captain Jack Sparrow stopped feeling his right ankle a good three island-laps ago. _So much for revenge... or food._ The sun was getting low in the sky. Everything was silent except for the occasional ruffle of the strange bird's feathers from up in the sky. _The bird... whatever kind it is... is just waiting for me to die so it can drop the dead crab dinner and get on with me flesh._ It wasn't super positive thinking, but it cleared everything up for Jack. And he wasn't going to let go the fact that the bird had his dead, sand, crab. He wouldn't have done much better off without it; _probably would 'o given me something sick anyways, _but it was the birds _intentions _that made him angry. _Not that birds actually have intentions... or brains for that matter,_ he added to himself.

Jack sat there, staring up at the fading sunset, and the stars appearing in the deep blue heavens. Nothing was really left to ponder, he thought, here on this island. Nothing really, except death. He didn't want to think about it, he would have rather passed out from pure exhaustion. He would have given up two more days of water. He even would have let that bird get away with the crab. But the thought approached him, and for the first time in his life, Captain Jack Sparrow was afraid, afraid that he was going to die. IN fact, it was probably the first time he had truly been scared of something since he was a child. He could barely even remember those days...

flashback

"John! JOHN! Will you pay attention? How can you not take an interest in _Italian_, The language of your four fathers? Have you learned nothing from your schoolmasters!?" John sat there at his large, polished oak table, not wanting to hear another minute of his father's long,_ boring_ lectures. He could bear one more of how he shall, one day, continue the family's name; carry on respectful traditions passed down for generations, ramble, ramble, ramble. Of course, his father had caught him once again with is leather bound sketch pad hidden beneath his Italian text, sketching and noting his "weird daydreams", as his father called them. Pictures of ships, explorers, lost treasures, and pirates always littered whatever papers he got a hold of. And this was the last straw with his father. "Are you even listening to me NOW, JOHN?!" "S' boring as hell", he mumbled behind his breath, actually regretting he had just said that. "WHAT DID YOU SAY YOUNG MAN?!?!" His father was furious, and there was no way he was going to get away with a swear word this time, not without twenty lashes first. "Where do you even learn these God-shunned curse words, John!? Have you been sneaking off to the docks AGAIN?! For how long will these boyish fantasies and obsessions last!? I question myself and wonder if young Mister Norrington acts this way towards _his_ elders?!" That was the final straw with John. He hated being compared to that Norrington boy almost as much as he hated his father. Even more, he didn't want any of these privileges, these titles, or riches. He wanted nothing of his life. He wanted nothing of living his father's life for him. Abruptly, John stood up, kicked the large desk over; knocking various items and papers askew, and stormed out the door.

flash foreword to present time

_What a bastard he was, my dad. Never did see him again after that moment, on that day, for the rest of his life... _Jack knew he was going to die; either from lack of food, water, heat stroke, a bird attack... the possibilities were endless. _Great, now I'm going to have to deal with my favorite dad in hell. Not like I'm going anywhere better, being a pirate and all... _Jack hated all of the seriousness, and he wanted to forget it all. That's why he ran away in the first place. _God, _he thought,_ and not a drop of rum to make anything a bit happier. Well, I must go and do something incredibly stupid to take my mind off things. Oh, and might as well get back those cocoanuts. _Ask quickly as jack had plopped himself down into the sand in that depressing sort of state, and stood up, shaking off his recent ponderings, and head in direction of his last hope of survival.

It hadn't been long before Jack Sparrow was his happy, naturally-drunk self, pacing along the edge of the waves, looking for stones to add to his rock collection. It was actually quite extensive, if he could say so himself. He formed the pile of stones in the shape of a ship, standing back and marveling his masterpiece. _Not too bad for a pirate captain, if I can think so myself._ Then he saw it... again... again. It was the most horrid thing that could have passed his frame of sight ever again, besides seeing Barbossa's face, of course. The bird was back. And being Jack Sparrow, he couldn't just let go his obsession with the thing that stole his dead crab. Trampling over his work of art, Jack chased the bird. He had to admit, that bird was determined. It just had to choose to land on the tallest palm tree on the island. Crazy ideas ran through his head. Was he really going to climb up a palm tree to so... something... to a strange. _I never had climbed a palm tree..._ _Why not?!_

Pushing his calloused feet against the rough tree bark, he worked his way up the slightly leaning tree. Inch by inch, he made his way closer and closer to the bird. Its grip on the crab, which was surprisingly still in its mouth, was very loose. If only he was an arm lengths closer to its beak, he could just grab the crab, and hi life would be complete... The bird didn't seem to notice Jack creeping up beside it, it now seemed asleep. _Almost there... and inch more and I'll have the crab shell as a prize, all to my onceys... _And at that exact moment, the bird woke up. Being Jacks second mortal enemy in the past week, the bird decided to do the only thing that would seem appropriate, bite Jack's left hand. Being an average human being, Jack's injured hand let go of the palm and he swung there by one hand. "DAMN BIRD!" His hand was slipping, and the bird was eyeing his fingers like pieces of fresh fish. He knew it was going to come, and not a moment after he thought that, that bird snapped at his hand, its beak digging in just below his knuckles, oh, and releasing the crab. In a scream of pain, Jack let go of the tree's trunk, and fell a good fifteen feet to the ground.

It seemed as if he fell in slow motion. He grabbed his bloody hand, holding it up against his tattered sleeve. He remembered thinking, _why must I hold grudges against large birds. Another thing, why did I climb this fucking tree in the first place?! Hopefully the sand will be soft..._ for the second time that day, Captain Jack Sparrow was knocked unconscious as he his the ground with a surprisingly hard thunk.


	4. Evening of Day Two: Thanks to that Bird

**Disclaimer: The stupid mouse still owns all. If he didn't I would be rich. But I'm not.**

**Claimer: The plot's mine, so get lost. The dead crab and the bird are mine too. **

Note: _Italics are Jack's thoughts, _"Normal fonts in parenthesis are what Jack/other characters say out loud", and regular writing is my narration.

Note: This could possibly be my second to last chapter, as I'm not sure if I'm going to continue after jack gets rescued by the rum runners, or leave it at that. If I do continue the story, it will be in the form another fan-fic, not adding on more chapters.

Note (Sorry, I swear to goddess this is my last "note"): Before I start the fourth chapter, I would like to thank everyone who reviewed! I can't thank you guys enough, especially since this is my first fan-fic, and well, let's face it... I'm ick at this kind of thing! laughs

**Padme**- Thanks so much! I try to do well and update... although things such as TEACHERS and HOMEWORK can get in the way sometimes.

**Flying Sparrow**- The mouse is pure evil. I have never loved the mouse, and never will. I like the bird also... I was thinking of naming the bird in the next chapter. Any suggestions?

**Jaina Kenobi**- Oh my goddess! I made someone laugh! AHH! Your review made me think "Holy Pelicans, I have a meaning in life". Now when I say "life", I mean the game. And I hate that game. Is "huzzah" really accurate? You know what, who cares if it's accurate?!?!? Huzzah rocks my world! To conclude, "freakishly loud laughter in the forbidden library" is part of my middle name. And believe me; I have a long middle name.

**Lonaargh**- Once, I was trying to see if that old superstition about "sprinkling salt on a crow's tail so it can't fly" was true. Only, I couldn't find many crows. So instead, I used a goose... which ended up biting me in the hand, right near the knuckles. Those things are very, very evil creeping things that creepeth upon this earth. I know how Jack feels. Oh, and I really do feel very much so sorry about killing the crab... it did brake my heart into tiny little pieces. I hope you continue to love Jack, because if anybody says the evil words, "I don't believe in Captain Jack Sparrow," a jack sparrow somewhere in the fan-fic world falls down dead... and we DO NOT want that to happen!

Oh, and thanky-thanky to my Beta-Ghost, my accountless friend, Sara.

Another heartfelt thanky-thanky to that guy who wrote the dictionary. Noah something.

After being a sticky wicket, I decided to start chapter four (which is really short... sorry)!

For the third time that day, Jack woke up with his head facing into the ground. Sadly, he was still not used to the taste of the salty, gritty textured sand stuck between his teeth. Pulling himself into a somewhat sprawled sitting position, he dragged his hand across his lips, ridding the exterior from the sand encrusted drool on his face. "Lovely." Jack strained to think what happened. Long night...? No... Was it another palm tree? At that moment, a rapid pain shot through his hand. _Oh yeah, that damn bird and my brilliant trip from the palm to this... quite hard, thing. _Before examining what he was sitting on, Jack tore off a small piece of fabric from a ripped hem on his pants, wrapping it in an odd way around his wrist through his fingers, and stretched out his aching ligaments, examining his homemade, bandaged hand. Subsequently, he stared down at the half uncovered, wooden... something he was sitting on.

_Where'd you come from?_ Running his hands across the plank, he pushed off the sand, finding a corner. _A corner... need three more of them, I do._ Dragging his sand dusted hands along the edge of the wooden "thing", he found another corner, and then a third. Running his good hand towards the presumingly final edge, he felt a small bump stop his hand in its path. Another moment or so of uncovering the object proved to be rewarding, as he had found something he hadn't expected, a small iron handle. With the sun half blocked by the waves on the horizon, Jack figure he didn't have much daylight left. _Might as well see what's under this bugger now instead o' later..._ Pulling that last bit of strength Jack had in his muscles together, he lifted the surprisingly heavy door. _This couldn't have been easy for me, could it?!_ Clearly some higher power wanted Jack to struggle a bit more before he could alleviate his curiosity and pull that plank open. "Bloody oversized splinter" as well as a couple other choice words were mumbled as he peered into the dark pit.

The second he opened that door into the sand, now ex-Captain Jack Sparrow knew that his discovery would lead to something greatly impacting his stay on that Godforsaken spit of land. Maybe there were trollops and whores, waiting for him in the darkness, _with rum._ Or, Barbossa and the crew could be waiting behind the door, for some particularly odd reason, waiting to kill him, _with rum, mind you, rum not for me own onceys._ In his head, he particularly favored his first thought, for some reason unknown. Taking a step into the ditch, he smelled something familiar. So very familiar, that, for a moment, he could have swore this depression lead to Tortuga. The last ray of light from the fading sun caught the glare of something, just a couple hands from where Jack was standing. Not just ANY glare, but a shimmer in the peculiar shape of a... bottle. Forgetting about his stupid injuries and aches, Jack lunged for the bottle, knocking off of the shelf it was supposedly sitting on, and it smashed. Jack had been right on his first guess, well... half right at the least. _There's rum down here... or, there was rum down here..._

His eyes, which had finally gotten used to the darkness, finally notice something. In fact, lots of somethings. Jack felt like he was going to cry. He could see many rows of shelves, laced with rum bottles, leading into the pit. _Maybe god isn't so stiff on good ol' Jack after all,_ and with that note, the pirate we all love and care about drank rum like there was no chance of seeing daylight again. Oh, and after some absent minded thoughts he fell to the ground, mumbled something to the effect of, "We should really stop meeting like this, luv...." and got some sleep, to be followed with a slight hangover.


	5. Morn' of Day Three: Conversations with R...

**Disclaimer: I claim that this disclaimer claims that I do not claim Pirates of the Caribbean and any other copyrighted characters/anything else.**

**Claimer: The plot was made be me, so you can't just go and steal it and write it better than me... even though that would save my readers a lot of suffering.**

Note: Hello everybody... this is NOT going to be my final chapter... Although I wasn't even sure if I was going to write this one in the first place since I left you guys off with Jack finding the rum, hence finding the rum runners that next day. OH WELL, I guess I was the bored little munchkin that I am and decided to do this instead of feeding my pets. At last, shout outs to people who reviewed chapter four! ...By the way, SUPER-DUPER thanky to my beta-reader, Sara! I LOVE YOU, BETA-GHOST!

**Lonaargh-** Oh my Goddess! I have fan! That is very scary... but flattering! Somebody likes my stuff! Oh, and don't ever listen to those Dutch sayings... or the German ones as well, they were just created to get fools like me killed. ; )

**padme17-** Funness is a great word! I use it so much; I added it to my dictionary so there wouldn't be those annoying red squiggly lines under it! hehehe Anyways, I was reviewing my writing and I realized that it was kind of hard to distinguish what day it was. Oops! Before this chapter, Jack has only been on the Island for two days. The first chapter was the first day (naw...really!?), and chapters two, three, and four were the second day. It is kind of hard to tell with all of the times Jack wakes up with sand in his mouth...

**Flying Sparrow- **Don't worry about it, I don't care when you review. I can't review myself; my little button always freezes up my computer... that's why I resort to authors with email addresses. laughing... now crying... Thanks for the name suggestions... Bob is always a great name, although I'm not sure if they had that nickname yet... oh well, they didn't have "huzzah!" either.

Ok, it is on! What is on, you may ask? Well, it is my _actual_ second to last chapter... So here you go, Chapter 5!

"No more... no, just take the cauliflower and... I DON'T KNOW... have _you _ever bathed in tuna fish?!?...." The sun had woken "Commodore" Jack Sparrow up not ten minutes ago, yet he had already started a brilliant conversation with the rock he found near the rum cellar's entrance. It would appear that Jack was still a bit... daft. After realizing he started talking to a monkey that didn't exist... per se, he decided to take a break from the rum. A bitter while later, hangover struck. Stumbling in the rough direction of the rum cellar, Jack reflected on things. _Thanks to that bloody bird, I have a hangover. 'Though I'll live for a month or so off of this stuff,_ he though as he glanced at the rum shelves, barely half full... _Maybe a week or so..._ Oh well, he had better things to do than stay alive. He could... teach the bird tricks! Yeah, he could see himself now... _Dragging me feet along the sun-warmed sands, playing fetch with the bird... got to name that one I do..._ Jack rubbed his aching head, shielded his eyes from the sun, and dragged himself back into the cellar's shadowy depths.

_Wonder what me' self should call the bird? Dan... Nah, how 'bout William... too many memories hold that name, that one does..._ Jack slumped against the empty wall in the back, sliding into a sitting position on the hard, cool floor. _Maurice... Nah. Hmmm, how 'bout Pete... Have I a second cousin... twice removed, or something to that point, named Peter. Living off in France... nice food there... a eunuch, lovely singing voice though... Fine, Petey it shall be,_ Jack acknowledged the bird with his slightly raised hand, as if a salute of some sort.

Governor Jack Sparrow, as he now thought of himself, was fluttering his eyes into dreamer's land, when he heard the yelp of a man ordering someone to row. "Row! C'mon now, ya know' we've only gots an hour to load 'da rum," the low voice had said. _Row... I remember when I used to row... back in the day. Ya' do that with boats, I hear. Boats... gotta luv those boats... BOATS!_ Jack immediately shot upright, quieting his movements to hear if his "soon to be rescuers" were actually willing to get him off this godforsaken spit 'o land.

"Why ya makin' me tow along the second boat all by me' self?" the higher voice whined. "I got bad elbows," muttered low-voice. Listening to the rest of their conversation went something to the extent of, "When da we getta stop at 'Tugatown...?","Dunno.", and "Where'd we hide 'da rum again?" Clearly, the couple of men weren't the smartest of rum runners. Judging by the loudness of their voices, the men were probably fifty yards away, far enough for Jack to shut the rum cellar's entrance without causing a raucous. Sadly, Jack had misjudged how dim-witted the rum runners really were. "Did ya hear 'dat...? Nigel, ya hear dat thump?" questioned Mr. High-voice. Mr. Low-voice, now called Nigel, replied after a long pause, whispering, "Yeah, me thinks I did..." _Damn it... bloody noise, _Jack thought. _There goes me surprising and mysterious entrance... was always the best part._

Governor Sparrow sat in pitch black cellar, listening to the men chat, as they approached. Suddenly, with a load "creak", the cellar door lifted up, sending a bright ray of sunlight into the pit, reflecting the stirred up sand. "Manny, me thinks someone's been 'ere," commented Nigel upon noticing a couple of the broken bottles on the ground. _Well, at least I know both of their names, _Jack commented in his head as he sat in the shadow, unseen by the couple._ Guess this is the opportune moment..._ "Would ya like some rum?" Jack said innocently as he stepped out of the darkness with a bottle in each hand. Surprisingly, both men stared blankly at him. Not a single "Shoot him!" was yelled. After a long pause, Nigel asked, "Who are ya?" Mimicking him, Manny added, "Yeah, who are ya?" Yet another long wait ensued, which was followed by a quick, "Smith... Mr. Smith...yes," from Jack, then clearing his throat and straightening his posture. "Oh," both said simultaneously. "Wait a sec, 'ave ya been drinkin' OUR rum?" Clearly, the two made the connection between Jack hiding in the cellar and the empty rum bottles. "Maybe we should step out into the lovely sunlight and straighten this all out?" Jack gave them a charming grin. It would seem that Captain Jack Sparrow had a plan.


End file.
